Monthly Archives: September 2015

The torture of small talk

Now that we’re slowly getting acquainted with each other, I think it is time to get more personal, more intimate in the selection of topics here, which is why I would like to touch on your greatest fear. What do you fear the most in life? Is there something that won’t let you sleep at night, makes you dread the next morning or some event in the near future that you wish would never take place? Please feel free to share.

The thing that I fear the most currently (and for a long while now) is a social construct that is known to everybody that ever went to university, had to work or pursue any kind of obligation that involves people. It is one of the fundaments of the fake part which makes up a considerable part of our modern life, of males and females alike: the torture of small talk.

Now I know that this doesn’t seem like a big deal to most people. Some might enjoy it or some might just take it as an essential part of their daily grind. I have the pleasure of counting two small-talk rockstars to my closest friends. I know that they might read this post at some point and shake their heads in memory of my total disability of having a short and effortless conversation with people that I don’t know too well. Whenever the three of us meet somebody we don’t really know, I end up staring from one to the other in low-key disbelieve about their smooth way of leading a totally pointless conversation, engaging in halfhearted laughter and make-believe interest. In the meantime, all I manage is to mumble a friendly hiii and byyeee and the occasional grin to let everybody know that I am following the conversation but prefer to leave it at that.

So take this as a warning: If you ever intent to engage in small talk with me, it is you and only you that chooses to experience the absolute climax of awkwardness. It is never me. I never try to lead a pointless conversation, I never force anybody to exchange stories about each others latest projects and busy schedule. It makes me f*cking nervous. I break out in sweat. I stutter. I can’t find the words to navigate me through minutes of my life that I know I’m never getting back. I am socially awkward in that way and I don’t think I want to change anything about it. I absolutely approve of everybody that greets me with a nice hello but doesn’t stop and just goes on with whatever he or she was about to do. You’re an honest person and I respect that. You have other things to do and so do I. If we don’t have a deep, common ground or the potential to reach it some day, why should we waste each others time?

Don’t get me wrong. Yes, I hate people – but I also love them, you know? I do have a genuine interest in people and I don’t just not give a f*ck about anybody but me. To me human beings are the most interesting thing in the world. You can learn so much through the interaction with people and their reactions to certain actions and you never run out of aspects that you notice that are new to you. If I end up making a living from looking at people and analyzing them in order to understand and manipulate them and their buying decisions, I will count myself happy. I just can’t deal with small talk, so please spare me the torture of it.

Now that I’ve made this confession – maybe you have a fear you’d like to share? The freakier the better. I’m open to anything. I don’t judge.

Obsession is good for you, trust me.

Anna

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No is not my thing

I’m not one to say no, especially not to food. Oh no, not when it comes to food – food is holy, you know, and I am Russian so there are certain things I can’t change, it’s in my genes. Now I’m not the supermodel Lena Perminova Russian type, unfortunately, I’m more the food, food, more food, mayonnaise and blini type of Russian. My grandmother calls it the Russian soul. YOLO, right?

With this said, I struggle a lot when it comes to this topic. I’m not tall, I’m not of slight build and I don’t look the way that people think I should when I tell them that I’m from Russia. We’re not all born as supermodels or wives of Russian oligarchs, life’s not fair, get over it and suck it up.

One funny phenomenon I struggle with is that I gain a lot of weight fast when I come back from the beach – it’s probably some kind of depressive withdrawal reaction my body has that leads me to eat whatever crosses my eyes. This time, since coming back from Cyprus not even three weeks ago, I’ve managed to gain 3kg by eating a bag of nuts everyday and whatever else there was. It’s a strange feeling when you witness yourself doing stupid things you know you will regret shortly after but still can’t stop doing it. Please tell me you’re with me on this. If not, I have nothing but respect for your composure.

I’m a person that needs official ends of old things and starts to new things in order to really get over it – same goes with discipline. I need a point where I know ok, this is it. I don’t know when it comes and how, I don’t think I can pilot it. It didn’t happen when I ordered a dress a few days ago and it didn’t fit so I had to order a size bigger. It happened yesterday when I just felt really really guilty and ridiculous, like a dog that can’t stop if you don’t stop giving it treats. Only I’m the kind of dog that know where to look for treats when you’ve already decided it’s more than enough. I think the dog is ready to go back to reasonable eating again.

Now I know that people always roll their eyes when you’re not exactly overweight and feel bad in your skin. You’re just a stupid whiny brat with nothing else to worry about, right? Care for some attention? While I am definitely not pro skinny skinny and really believe that women are beautiful in every shape and size, I still don’t like being or feeling short and puffy – no matter what you say, it’s not a good feeling when your thighs rub to an extent where you get wounds between your legs.

So what am I getting at? I don’t even know. I think I just needed to share with the world that I’m getting my sh*t back together from today on so I don’t find excuses to down more bags of nuts in one go. Also, I’m open to advice. We live in a time where people, especially women my age, pay too much attention to this topic and are over-educated when it comes to this. So, everything aside from ‘skip carbs’ ,’don’t eat after 4pm’, ‘nibble on ice cubes’ – you don’t know what it’s really like to love food, right? – I’m open to it. Let me hear what you do when you feel you should look more like Bar Refaeli and less like your favourite, greasy food. Or like yourself, a couple of months ago?

Maybe this is the sign you needed. Maybe you want to team up with me and regain a little bit of that control you know you are in charge of.

Obsession is good for you, trust me.

Anna

 

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Sometimes it’s ok to be cheap

It’s hard having an expensive taste, let me tell you. It’s not something you choose, it just lives in you and never lets go of you, no matter where you are. It has nothing to do with brands, it’s an aura that captures you and not only makes you fancy things, it makes you obsess about certain objects.

Long story short: it f*cking sucks because I don’t have a wallet that fits my needs. Especially now that I’m back to uni, I really should get my sh*t together – and keep it together. After all now it’s no longer my own money that I’m spending on stuff that we all secretly know is overpriced. Some people might argue that this is a typical white girl problem… Of course it is.

My most recent obsession is this puffy blouse by Miu Miu – fashion victims will know. It is perfect. It is so cute. It is a masterpiece. I can see myself wearing it day and night. I’m sure everybody would agree that we’d be the perfect match, complete each other. There is just one problem: At the price tag of around an effing 1000 dollars, this baby and I probably aren’t meant to be, after all.

So while I’m aware that I am the victim of some higher force – materialistic or other – I am happy to say that I still have a limit that I wouldn’t cross. I don’t know where exactly it is and it probably depends on my hormone level, but help might be around the corner.

In a moment of sanity and good intentions about turning my life around and become a less fashion addicted brat, a recent post on Man Repeller seemed like a sign from above. In this case, my personal goddess shall now become the charming Clairette, who seems to struggle with the same discrepancy as me and tries to help herself with DIY projects – and what a great job she does!

After endless looking around for a simple and cheap yet high quality blouse and matching cloth to decorate it with (and finding a contrasting colour, a combination which everybody but me seems to find hideous and tasteless) and spending a whole day cursing the lack of my creative skills and hurting myself with needles every couple of minutes, I am now a little proud to present to you what I was able to create with no – no, really – no talent at all:

https://www.instagram.com/p/_UTy7KHUhm/?taken-by=girlcasm%20

Not too bad, huh? I think soft purple goes together very well. Of course this is far away from the original piece of desire – but that’s not the point here. If I can do it, you can do it as well.

Win-win for me: I get to make yet another resolution (let’s all really get into this DIY stuff ,ok?), I got to spend a whole day away from my mobile phone last weekend (except from doing a few snaps of my work – Snapchat: @chaotete) , I can share a DIY idea with you without getting into detail (just follow the links above) and I now have a blouse nobody else has and there is a tiny little chance that I might get over my Miu Miu object of desire. Maybe not, though. I’ll keep you updated.

So what about you? Any great high fashion DIY to share? Let me know!

Obsession is good for you, trust me.

Anna

 

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Honey, I’m Home

Back to uni, that is. Today I’m starting my master’s in Marketing, Services and Communication Management at the University of St. Gallen – that’s in Switzerland, you’ve probably never heard about it. A place that I’ve been dreading to go back to, but here I am.

Overly motivated, of course. You know, all excited about a new start. All Hermione Granger in my head, ready to always be up to date and ahead of everything and everybody, knowing already that this will last about… a week? If this isn’t how you feel every time school or a new semester starts and actually push through and live up to your resolutions: you’re blessed, and all of us normal people hate you. Bitch.

I will spend this first day stuck in some obligatory academic programme, so it will be just a lot of bla bla and spotting one or two familiar faces among a lot of new ones. After having lived in Zurich for more than 1,5 years I don’t expect – hope – to know too many people. It’s a good thing I’ve decided to gain 3 kg just in time for my fresh start, so at least people will not hate me for my looks. I’ve decided to put on pink nail polish though, so they know exactly what to expect from me.

Sadly, I don’t expect to find better people this time than I already did during my bachelor’s – let’s be honest, only godawful people decide to study marketing and I am well aware of the fact that this is exactly how people will see me from now on. And it’s ok, really, I know that there is a lot of truth in this.

I’m curious to see how long my excitement and positive attitude are going to last. The past 1,5 years, aka my first experience with the real world, still seem like a long, sometimes exciting, sometimes exhausting trip to a place that I’m happy to get a break from. No more getting up at inhuman times, no more dressing work-appropriately, no more being nice to people if they don’t deserve it. But my exams are only yet to come and some brief facebook-stalking of some of the participants in my course has left me sure that I’ll soon be whining about group work, wishing myself back to my good old, competitive UBS.

Obsession is good for you, trust me.

Anna

 

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